


La Vie en Rose

by assassinslover



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-19 00:26:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1448557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassinslover/pseuds/assassinslover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>la vie en rose; life through rose-coloured glasses</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Vie en Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Written because Kirsty wanted me to. That's the only thing I can take credit for. Loosely based on the first five minutes or so of Bioshock Infinite: Burial at Sea - Episode 2.

Music crackled, soft and strange, achingly familiar. A breeze as soft as a lover's kiss drifted across her skin, pulling playfully at her clothes. On it she could smell fresh bread and flowers and the river, oils and acrylics, tea and coffee and pastries and sweet smoke. She felt herself smile, giddy and free, as a hand touched hers. She opened her eyes. Before her, the sun shining a halo around her golden hair, Delphine smiled so brightly it robbed Cosima's lungs of air. In the shade of the café awning she should have been cold, but the air was pleasantly warm, despite the cooling waif of a wind. She turned her hand, sliding her fingers around Delphine's and holding lightly. They were as cool as the breeze. She looked like something out of a painting, or a movie, or a beautiful sculpture sat with the sun making her skin glow and a glass of rich wine tipped to her lips. Cosima followed her eyes, along the river and past the painters to the Eiffel tower, standing tall and proud with its edges fuzzy with bright light.

“Sarah and Alison would love it here,” Cosima said wistfully. “And Kira, especially Kira.” Delphine looked at her, tilting her head. Her curls brushed against her shoulder. Puzzlement shone in her eyes, in the faintest tilt of her brow.

“Who?” she asked. Cosima frowned, and tried to think of what to say (why didn't Delphine know?), but a waiter was at her elbow with a tray of coffee and cream and sugar and sweets, and everything was right again. Delphine had forgotten and so had Cosima, lost in a friendly smile and the scent and taste of fresh grinds. It warmed her chest and stomach, settling and spreading, blooming out through her body. Delphine chatted about the pastries they had been brought, picking at the flaking dough with her teeth. The wind blew again, caressing her skin. The music still played, an endless loop, though Delphine never moved to reset the record. Her hand remained on Cosima's, thumb lazily stroking her knuckles, rubbing circles.

“Excuse me, mademoiselles,” a quiet, kind voice said from over Cosima's shoulder. “I found you both so beautiful that I could not help myself, I had to draw you, but I would feel a thief if I did not gift this picture to you.” Cosima turned to look at a portrait of the two of them, gently being pushed into her hands. She ran cautious, appreciative fingers over the strokes of charcoal, and grinned up at the man. His face was friendly, his smile open and lovely.

“I couldn't,” she said, holding the canvas out (when had she learned to speak French?). The man closed her fingers over the frame, still smiling, shaking his head.

“I insist, mademoiselle. It was enough for me to have the pleasure of capturing such an inspiring moment.” He touched his hand to his chest with a slight bow. Cosima's grin widened. She thanked him earnestly, and turned to show Delphine. Her lover smiled sweetly, leaning over to kiss Cosima's cheek. She rose smoothly, chair sliding back without a sound, and held out her hand.

“Walk with me,” she said. Cosima accepted, leaving the remains of their lunch on the table and slipped her fingers through Delphine's again with the drawing tucked under her arm. Delphine pulled her along, still smiling, still bathed in golden sunlight, down the street along the river, past the painters. Each person they passed had a smile (why did they all know her?) and a greeting, a friendly chorus of “bonjour”'s and “ça va, Cosima”'s filling the air around them. She felt as light as air, her chest warm and fuzzy. She breathed in deeply, squeezing Delphine's hand, walking close to her. Her fingers were still cold but Cosima could feel her warmth, filling the cracks between Cosima's bones with happiness and contentment and love. She had never felt so happy in her life.

A boy said hello to them, a man said how beautiful they both looked. A shopkeeper sweeping greeted them happily and went back to whistling in time to the music that Cosima could still hear, slowly growing louder, a wonderful orchestra of strings and the plucking of a guitar. The sun shone on her now, warming her skin. Delphine led her towards the music, through a small garden, by couples holding hands or wrapped in each others arms.

“Bonjour, Cosima!” a small girl yelled, waving. “Come and play with us!”

“I'm sorry,” Cosima said, laughing as Delphine pulled her away. “Next time, I promise.” The child ran off to join her friends and Delphine led her towards the market square, towards the music that Cosima could feel in her blood. She hummed along under her breath.

“Une baguette, mademoiselle?” a pretty girl asked, holding a basket of bread with a smile on her face. Cosima smiled back. It smelled fresh from the bakery. Delphine left her, sweeping away to browse over the stalls of fruit and vegetables and cheese and more pastries than Cosima could count. In the centre of the square three men played their instruments. Cosima set the drawing under her arm carefully down against a kiosk and leaned her shoulder against it, watching them. They each smiled at her once. She felt a soft tug on her sleeve, and glanced down to see a girl with a basket of flowers, smiling up at her.

“Bonjour, Cosima!” Cosima grinned.

“Hey, Cosette, how are you?” she asked.

“I'm wonderful!” the girl replied enthusiastically. She started chattering on, talking about the weather, about her friends, how she had rented a bicycle and ridden along the river. When had she met Cosette? It felt like she had known her forever, like she had always been in Cosima's life, even before she was born. She looked familiar, too, like a distant memory... her head twinged softly. Delphine's happy laugh pulled her out of her thoughts. Cosima turned her head to look at her again, dancing with another child, one of Cosette's friends, she knew. She was perfect. Cosette nudged her again. She had a small bundle of flowers in her hand, an arrangement of colourful orchids and pink carnations.

“She will like these, Cosima,” Cosette said, and pressed the stems into Cosima's hand. Delphine looked up, face split by a wide, beautiful grin, her face flushed from dancing. Cosima walked to her and offered the flowers, unable to keep from smiling herself. Everything was beautiful; Paris, the music, Delphine. This was paradise. Delphine held the bouquet to her nose, her eyes smiling as brightly as her lips did, and held out her open hand.

“Dance with me, chérie,” she said as the band changed songs. The title escaped her still, but the chords were familiar. Delphine pulled her in, pressing their bodies together, and they danced (when had Cosima learned? Or had she always known?), spinning in slow circles as the people around them watched with loving eyes. They danced until the sun set, and the music faded, and Cosima was giddy and breathless and hungry. Delphine knew, she always knew, and with a gentle kiss drew Cosima from the square, back along the banks of the river with only a second of pause to collect their drawing.

The restaurant was small and comfortable, the doors open to allow the fresh air to circulate through the rooms, mixing all the different scents of the street, letting the music from the band in the square provide a soothing backdrop to their dinner. Shadows from the sun dappled the walls bronze and red and yellow. Delphine ordered for them, as she always did, and always knew exactly what Cosima wanted without Cosima having to say anything on the subject. Next to her chair, set at the base of the wall, Cosima kept their drawing safe. She would hang it when they got home, in their bedroom, perhaps. Or in the sitting room. No, the bedroom. They hardly spent any time indoors. The weather was always lovely (why?), and almost every day they were out in the sunlight, strolling, swimming in the river. Days indoor were spent in bed, wrapped up in each other. Definitely the bedroom. She sipped at her wine and hummed appreciatively, eyes drooping shut for a handful of seconds.

“This is an amazing vintage,” she said, pausing for another taste. “Alison would love thi-” A flash of pain seared through her temple. Cosima set her glass down a bit too hard, wincing and sucking in a sharp breath through her teeth, pressing her fingers to her flesh. Delphine's hand immediately covered hers, and when Cosima opened her eyes she was smiling. The pain faded. Cosima smiled back, forgetting what had brought on the pain in the first place (why couldn't she remember?). Her food was perfect, like it always was, and twilight had settled heavily on them as they made their way back through the winding, cobbled streets. They never needed to struggle to find keys, or even bother to lock the door (did it even have locks?). There was no fear of a break-in, there never had been.

Delphine's face was red from the wine, and Cosima's cheeks felt hot as well. Her head spun lightly. She left the flowers in a vase on the table in the foyer to greedily drink the water in the bottom, and with a mischievous look mounted the stairs. Cosima chased after her, giggling, into their bedroom. She set down their drawing and together they tumbled into bed in a tangle of limbs. With practised fingers, Delphine rid Cosima of her clothes, kissing each new bit of skin as it was revealed to her. Cosima touched her hair and cheeks, smiled into kisses, her heart fluttering. She sighed, smiling. Delphine drew shapes and whispered against her skin. Her fingers were still warm, now, expertly stroking as she swallowed Cosima's gasps and moans with gentle kisses.

She curled up in Delphine's arms afterwards, glasses discarded on the night stand, the balcony doors open to let in the cool night air. It kissed the sweat on her skin, and helped raise goosebumps on her flesh wherever Delphine's fingers trailed. Every night could be like this if she wanted it to be. She didn't know why she would ever want anything else.

“We should settle down,” Cosima said, breaking the comfortable silence. Delphine hummed.

“We are settled down, my love,” she replied, and pressed a kiss to Cosima's temple. Soft hands pulled her closer, fitting their hips together. Cosima pressed her ear to Delphine's chest and listened to the thump of her heart, comforted by its firm and steady beat.

“I mean like, really settle down. Have kids or something. Get a house by the beach. Or maybe we should start with something small. Like a puppy or something. One with golden fur.” She reached up to play with one of Delphine's curls. “Like your hair.”

“And beautiful brown eyes, like yours,” Delphine said, smiling. Her eyes were bright, positively glowing with happiness.

“I'm totally going to get us a puppy tomorrow if you keep looking at me like that,” Cosima said through a smile. Delphine kissed her knuckles, then the backs of her fingers, then the tips, her palm, the inside of her wrist.

“One day, chérie, I would like very much to settle down with you.” Her smile was almost sad. It didn't quite reach her eyes (why was she so sad? They had everything they could ever want).

“I love you,” Cosima said. Delphine's smile was happy then. There were no barriers between them any more. Nothing to keep them apart, to hurt them. Just a beautiful city open for them to explore, beautiful music, beautiful people. A lifetime of idyllic happiness.

“Je t'aime, aussi, Cosima,” Delphine whispered against her lips, kissing her softly. She began to sing along with the music Cosima could still hear, faintly playing from somewhere in the streets below. “ _Quand il me prend dans ses bras/Il me parle tout bas/Je vois la vie en rose...”_ She closed her eyes.

 

Raindrops splattered lightly off the window, running down the glass in tiny trails. The sky was dark, the clouds a dozen shades of grey, blocking out the warmth of the sun. Delphine pulled her coat closer around her and held the bouquet in her hand tightly. The inside of the car was silent save for the sound of the engine, and the occasional sniff or sigh from Sarah at her side. Delphine let her brow rest against the cold glass, watching through the water tracks as the wrought iron gates that marked their destination loomed out of the gloom in front of them. They stood open, waiting but uninviting. Gravel crunched under the tires as Sarah pulled the car up to them and unlocked the doors. Neither of them moved, and for a moment neither of them spoke, until Delphine sat up and cleared her throat.

“I'll be back in an hour, yeah?” Sarah said softly. “Just give me a call if you want me back before then.” She wouldn't. Delphine always stayed for an hour, never more, never less. She couldn't bear it any other way. She hooked her fingers around the handle and cracked the door open. Droplets of water softly struck her hand and seeped into her skin. She turned to look at Sarah, staring resolutely out the windshield with her knuckles white around the wheel.

“You can join me if you would like,” Delphine said. “I'm sure she would be happy.” Sarah shook her head. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, nose scrunching and jaw tensing. Her voice was tight.

“I can't,” she said quietly. “I'm not ready yet. It's still too... raw.” Delphine nodded. It was raw, but she had a duty. No matter how much it hurt she would never stop. Sarah wouldn't look at her. Delphine placed a foot on the gravel outside the car and pushed the door open the rest of the way.

“An hour,” she said dully. Sarah nodded. Delphine shut the door and watched her drive off, circling around and going back the way they had come. She sucked in a deep breath of rain-soaked air, and passed through the gates. There was no need to consult the directory or the map of the grounds. She had travelled the path enough that she could have walked it backwards with her eyes closed. She stepped carefully through the field of stone until she arrived at the only one that mattered and slowly knelt in the damp grass. The flowers she had brought the other day were still there, kept close to fresh by the rain that had been falling. Delphine brushed her fingers over the soft petals, collecting raindrops on her skin, and set the new bouquet down, an arrangement of multi-coloured orchids and pink carnations. The back of the throat itched and her eyes burned. When she breathed, it shook.

Delphine reached out, touching her hand to the cold, wet marble. Her face was wet, but she couldn't tell if it was with tears or rain. A quiet, choked sob stuck in her throat. She collected herself quickly, closing her eyes and breathing through the stabbing pain in her chest, and found herself humming. Her and Cosima's music tastes differed, but this song... this song Cosima had always loved, especially when Delphine would sing it into her ear on nights when bloody, racking coughs kept her from sleeping. Her fingers traced Cosima's name.

“ _Je vois la vie en rose._ ”

 


End file.
